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Rated: E · Short Story · Comedy · #1375206
A story about an M&M and her journey towards making a difference.
The life of an M&M



I heard the rustle of a bag and my eyes blearily opened. Suddenly, the squeal of my friend Brownie woke me fully.
“Wait! Wait!” I rolled as fast as I could, but within the dark recesses of this God-forsaken pit, I got no where.
The fingers of our captor cruelly clutched at the brown bag with my friends rolling helplessly inside it. My sweet heart beat frantically, my eyes wide, ears quivering as my body registered the faint screams of one after another of my soul-mates being eaten.
“Rose! Don’t let him eat you! Don—Don’t…” Rouge made a last gargling whine as a sickening ‘crunch’ sounded.
“Ruffian! Vagabond! MURDERER!” I shouted as loud as I could, but to no avail. I heard the once so comforting plastic of our home being tossed in a trashcan.
I was alone. I said to myself in a wail “Alas, I am a woman friendless, hopeless!”
My mind went numb and I sank into depression. I suppose it was my lot in life…at least, that’s what my mother told me in the M&M factory…

          “Now Rose. You must understand that our lot in life is to serve as  unhealthy sustenance for humans.”
         “But why?”
         “They are our creator…though not our masters. Very few of us have escaped their clutches after the bag is opened…very few. But those who do rarely live any longer than they would have otherwise. They are melted by the sun, dissolved by liquids, crushed by any manner of things, or they get…” here she paused. “Slowly eroded by the elements.
         This world is not kind to us, and it never will be. For when the humans stop eating us, they will stop making us.”
         My mother was tearing up and I rolled over to comfort her.
         “Should I just accept it then, and not try to escape?”
         “No!” Mother’s eyes blazed despite her tears, hers mouth set in a hard line.
         “Let your voice be heard by as many as possible and survive as long as you can.
         Maybe one of us could make a difference.”


‘A difference…Phff. Right’ I dismissed the idea right then and there and continued to sit in brooding silence. Then the boy’s hand appeared and slid down into the pocket, rooting around for something. I was afraid it was going to be me. So I rolled cautiously into the narrow end of his pocket, where I hoped his thick fingers wouldn’t fit—or find me.
In turned out that all he wanted was the slightly moist and sticky bubble gum that had been slowly seeping outside of its wrapper because of his body heat. “Poor thing. I’m glad I’ve not been down here that long.” I whispered.

Thankfully the boy was heading home and changing clothes, thus enabling me to have some freedom. As the pants fell, the pocket I was a resident of fell opening down on the floor. I was knocked out immediately.
‘I bear a charmed life.’ I thought sarcastically as I surveyed the mounds of shirts, pants, shoes, and underwear. There was particularly dirty looking pair of briefs next to me, and I edged away as quickly as my circular self could. Glancing around, I found that the door was partially open!
“What luck!” said I, and rolled speedily towards my exit from the smelly and clothing strewn bedroom. Once free, I came to a balcony, overlooking a drop so huge that the Grand Canyon could barely compare! At least, to my eyes it was so.
A couch was placed directly underneath me, and, if I were to scare up enough courage to fall, I would land on it. With my luck, I would land on my face and get squished between the cushions, forever lost in the limbo of human upholstery.
The future in that direction a little less than preferable, I surveyed the stairs to my left. More daunting than the drop from the balcony was the tumble and probable crushing with feet at the base. The unsavory option of the stairs gave me great incentive to find yet another way of leaving my high vantage point.
Sadly, there was none.
“The couch or the stairs. Which is it to be, Rose?”
The couch was the unanimous reply, and as this nation is a democracy, the majority wins. Off the balcony floor I fell, smack dab in the middle of the center cushion.
“I’m Alive!” I shouted. “I’m Alive!!!!”
The sound of little voices then came to my ears. Shrieks and moans the like as Hell should only know rose up from the couch. I scooted a bit to the left and peered in between the cushions. As I did so the voices grew louder.
“Is anyone down there?” I shouted.
A resilient “Yes! Please Help us!” arose from the depths. It truly was a candy Hell. For my own sake I could not venture into its depths, despite the piteous cries for rescue and relief that were issued.

“Cameron?”
“Yes Mom.”
“I’m leaving to do a bit of shopping. I’ll be back in an hour or so. Can you watch Annie?”
It seems that the boy who had held me captive and murdered my friends had a mother and a sister. And I was going to be left alone with them.
“Wait, Mrs.…Mrs.….Whatever-your-name-is!”
They didn’t hear me. Their conversation continued.
“Remember. Don’t feed her anything with milk in it, including cheese and chocolate. She reacts violently to just a small taste of it. It could kill her.”
“Relax Mom. She’ll be fine! You know I’ve not let her have anything like that before.”
“Yes, but I’m very worried about her. She found an M&M two days ago that must have dropped from your pocket. I had to grab it from her and put it in the sink. She almost had it in her mouth.”
‘Another escapee!’ I thought.
“Alright Mom. I’ll take care of her.”
“Thank you, Cameron.”
I heard keys jingle, and the door slam as Cameron’s mom left. I was alone with the M&M mass murderer and his protégé…the Little Annie!
I could barely contain my terror as Cameron walked my way.
“An M&M! I thought I ate all of them. Ah well. One more for me!”
He had seen me. I was going to move when he seemingly pounced on me and I was in his hot and sweaty fist.
His fingers holding my bright red exterior moved towards his brace-filled mouth when…
“Annie! No!” The sound of pots and pans crashing to the floor and a satisfied giggle sent Cameron running, his hand safely depositing me on the counter.
‘Now’s my chance!’ I rolled as swiftly as possible and landed ‘rat-a-tat-tat’ on the floor, skidding to safety under a stepping stool.
‘This must be used for reaching the higher shelves.’ I thought, looking at the immense and soaring cabinets lining the kitchen.
‘At least this isn’t one of Annie’s’ toys...’
It wasn’t Annie’s, but she liked to use it anyway. As soon as Cameron had shooed her away from the scene of the cook-ware, she was on the move— right towards me.
I managed to slide from under the stool to behind a diaper bag, thus prolonging my life by a few minutes.
Annie passed on by, interested in a dropped cheerio.
“I feel sorry for cheerios. They sure lead a hard life” I said to myself and winced at the crunching noise emanating from the infants drooling gob.

“You hungry Annie?”
Annie squealed at seeing the fruit Cameron flourished in front of her. Cameron said “I thought so. Let me cut this up for you.”
I then thought I was safe. But to be sure, I moved slightly out, trying to make a dash for the only other cover available on the way towards the door—the table. Halfway between hiding spots, with no easily accessible fortress for me to defend myself in, she saw me.

Little Annie crawled towards me, chubby cheeks and all. I sat their, scared out of my wits. Everything that my mom had listed as the worst deaths possible were about to come true…all except the one about the elements eroding me away slowly that is.
“Crushed by her three pearly white teeth….my outside melted by her hot breath,  the sweet, chocolaty inside of me partially dissolved by her slobber, and then—eaten completely!!”
‘No!’ I thought. But then it struck me. I remembered an earlier conversation I overheard between Cameron and his mother.
          “Remember. Don’t feed her anything with milk in it, including cheese and chocolate. She reacts violently to just a small taste of it. It could kill her.”

‘I’m made of chocolate!’

Annie was getting closer. I looked frantically around till I saw Cameron at the counter cutting up some of her fruit. If I could just get to him!
The wood floor had a slight slope to it, but in exactly the wrong direction. If I moved I was going to head away from Cameron. I must get to him though! I couldn’t let Annie die just because of me!
I exerted all the effort I could and moved slightly in the right direction. Glancing around I noticed Annie had gotten momentarily distracted by a push-toy.
‘Anything to buy me some time.’
Slowly, I inched around the counter and I knew I was close. The ‘Sketchers’ sign on Cameron’s shoes was getting bigger by the second. I just needed a bit more time.
Then I heard it. The laugh. The laugh that once made me smile, but now made me more scared than at any other time in my life. Looking behind me I saw Annie making a beeline for my bright red self!
‘Move it! C’mon! Move!’ my whole being screamed at me. Chocolate was not meant to do cross country.
Suddenly, I bumped into Cameron’s big shoes.
“Yes!” I shouted.
“Cameron! Cameron! Down here. No…not at the fruit. Down here!” He seemed to have heard something, because he looked down. Not right at me, but close.
“Hey Annie!” he said as he smiled at her. Her pudgy hands swooped in and gripped me tightly as her brother picked her up.
“What have you got there?” he asked. It was too late though. I could feel her hot breath on my face, watching her wet lips widening. Then, I was in her mouth!
“No, Annie! You’re not supposed to eat chocolate…Ewwe!” I could feel the drool sliding off me as Cameron yanked me out of Annie’s mouth. Her scream filled my ears and sent my head to ringing.
But what came into my head was not how loud the scream was, but that she could even scream.
‘She’s alright…” I thought feebly as I slipped into unconsciousness.

I awoke in a familiar, dark, and stuffy pocket.
The first thing in my mind was to thank God for saving Annie, and to thank Cameron for saving me!
Then it dawned on me. I was back where I started. Something felt wrong....there was something slightly different this time.
I checked myself over, and to my horror....fuzz of all shapes, sizes and colors was stuck to me at varying intervals. That creep Cameron put me in his pocket still covered in saliva!
I tried to keep from gagging as I slowly rubbed the fuzz of my now dry, though somewhat worn exterior.
As I was scraping the last piece of navy fuzz of my 'M', I was suddenly jostled as the pants were crumpled. I heard Cameron whistling, then the water running. He was taking a shower.

After his shower, I was picked up again (while still in the pocket), and carted down a set of steps, through various rooms, and into the room that all candies and tissues dread with their very being.
The laundry room!
“Mom!” he shouted. “I’m going to start a load. Do you want to put anything in it?”
'Him mom must be back from shopping now...' I thought
“No thank you honey!”
Before the pants were stuffed in the washer, I heard the soft patter of little hands and knees.
“Hi Annie. It’s nice to see you too, but you can’t stay in here.”
The jeans were set down on the edge of the washer as Cameron grabbed Annie and plopped her outside the room.
The pocket was on it’s side and I decided to try and escape one more time. Close to the opening I could see light.
i‘Yes!’ I thought. When I got to the opening, I looked down, and there was Annie, sitting at the base of the washer and staring up at me, her big green eyes gazing into mine. I couldn’t move.
“You’d better go. You don’t want Cameron to catch you in here again. And I don’t want you to eat me either.”
Annie just cocked her head to the side and continued staring at me. Then Cameron’s body blocked my view as he grasped the jeans again and lifted them, ready to stuff them in the washer. As I was moved upwards, I glanced down at Annie again…at her cute face and her sweet smile.
“Goodbye Annie.” I smiled at her.
Darkness again enveloped me, and soon after that, soap and water. As the suds were surrounding me and my once beautiful red covering melted away I remembered what my mother said:
“Maybe one of us can make a difference someday.”
Maybe we really can.


Note: There are two lines, in this order, that Rose quotes from Shakespeare -
         King Henry VIII
                   &
         Macbeth
                             Have fun finding them!
© Copyright 2008 Katerina de Annika (history.luver at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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